Small Mercies

by Small Mercies (epub)

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Didn’t expect you in yet.’

  Annie looked up to see Jennings poking his head around the door of the large office. ‘They decided it was safe to release us from the hospital. Looks like whoever shot at Sheena legged it pretty much immediately. Typical, though. Busy weekday afternoon, but so far no witnesses. They’re checking all the CCTV footage but no luck yet. They don’t even know if the shooter left by car or on foot.’

  ‘It won’t stay like that for long.’ Jennings sat himself opposite her. ‘They’ll get something.’

  ‘Who’s been allocated to the investigation?’ Annie asked.

  ‘I’ve put Andy Dwyer in charge. He’ll do a decent job.’

  DI Andy Dwyer was a little younger than Annie, but already seemed destined for higher things. She knew him a little but she’d never warmed to him, although he had a decent reputation. The word was that he was ambitious and that he had the political skills to support his ambition, and she’d seen a few instances of that in her dealings with him. But in this case, it might work in Sheena’s favour. This would be a high-profile case and Dwyer would be keen not to mess it up. ‘Sounds a good choice.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s fine physically. They completed all the tests and found no cause for concern. Emotionally – well, let’s say she’s a bit shaken.’

  ‘I can imagine. Yesterday was one thing, but today…’

  ‘Yesterday looked like some numpty waving a gun around. Today we know she’s being targeted.’

  ‘We’ll throw everything at it. You know that, don’t you?’ For once, Jennings sounded entirely sincere.

  ‘Of course. I mean, we would anyway. But targeting an MP is taking us into scary territory.’

  ‘Not the first instance.’

  ‘No, but that makes it even worse.’

  ‘What’s she going to do?’

  ‘She won’t let it stop it doing her job. But that’s Sheena. I need to persuade her to be suitably cautious. She’s been talking to the Party and to the Speaker’s Office about what can be done. But if there’s a sniper out there, there’s only so much you can do. She can’t do constituency surgeries wearing a Kevlar vest.’

  ‘What about at home? To be honest, I was a bit surprised you came in. I thought you’d have wanted to stay with her. Not that I’m not pleased to see you back,’ he added, perhaps a moment too late.

  ‘If it had been left to me, I’d have stayed with her. But Sheena was insistent I should come in. We’ve got decent security at the house and there’s a police presence there for the moment. She said there was nothing I could do there. She was right, I suppose, but I’m still not sure I did the right thing.’

  ‘It scares the hell out of me,’ Jennings said. ‘And not just because it’s currently happening on my watch.’

  ‘If it helps, I do come bearing one bit of good news.’

  He looked up. ‘Really? We could do with some of that.’

  ‘Our first victim,’ she said. ‘The Beeley Moor body. Looks like we might have an ID.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Turns out he was on the system. Fingerprints and DNA. Couple of fairly petty misdemeanours as a teenager. A drunk and disorderly that cost him a night in the cells. Then a shoplifting offence. Nothing serious, but enough to put him on our radar.’

  ‘So who is he?’

  ‘Name of Darren Parkin. Last address we have is in Loscoe. From the files it looks like it’s probably the family home. I’ve checked the electoral roll and the occupants are still a Mr and Mrs Parkin, so even if Darren had moved out, they’re presumably his next of kin.’

  ‘Good work.’

  ‘I didn’t do much,’ Annie said. ‘But, yes, it’s potentially a big step forward. At least gives us some insights into Parkin’s private life.’

  ‘And how he came to be naked on Beeley Moor with his throat cut? That must be a hell of a private life.’

  ‘Though quite possibly one his parents knew nothing about, of course. But I hope they’ll at least be able to give us some leads. I was just waiting for you to get back before heading over there.’

  ‘You planning to take Zoe with you?’

  ‘We’re going to have to break the news to the Parkins. Zoe would be useful. She’s good at that kind of thing.’

  ‘How does Zoe seem to you?’

  ‘Not quite her usual self, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean. She was behaving a bit strangely when we were out together earlier. Nearly lost my rag with her, to be honest, but thought there might be something I wasn’t aware of.’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. I thought she seemed tired. Tired and anxious. Disturbed by something.’

  ‘Maybe something at home?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. Not that she’d necessarily tell me. She’s a fairly private individual. I’ll have a go at talking to her about it.’

  ‘We all have off-days,’ Jennings said. ‘But I need everyone fully focused at the moment. The Chief will be breathing down my neck on this case and on Sheena’s. If Zoe can’t hack it, for whatever reason, I need to know.’

  ‘I get the message. I’m sure it’s something and nothing but I’ll talk to her.’ Annie was keen to move the conversation on. ‘Anything I should know about the second body before I go and see the Parkins?’

  ‘Zoe can fill you in on the detail. But it looks like the same MO. Similar-looking victim – young, white male. If he turns out to be on the system too, we might have something to work with. As with the first, looks like he was killed on the spot. The spot being even more remote than the first. Which means it’ll be even harder to find potential witnesses or CCTV.’

  ‘Our killer seems to like getting away from it all.’

  ‘Killer or killers. I’m struggling to see how this can be the work of one person.’

  ‘That’s what worries me. The whole thing’s disturbing,’ Annie said. ‘Whatever the motives. Right, I’ll go and grab Zoe, and we’ll see what the Parkins can tell us.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Jennings said, pushing himself to his feet. ‘And good luck.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘At the moment I’ll take any luck that’s going.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Must be the one at the end,’ Zoe Everett said.

  ‘Numbering always seems cock-eyed on estates like this,’ Annie said.

  ‘Probably because they keep squeezing in more and more houses. It’s a bit of a jumble, isn’t it?’

  Loscoe was a former mining village in the heart of the county, north of Derby. Like many of the towns and villages in the area, it had undergone a transformation in recent decades. The pits that had once sustained the area were long gone, along with the slag heaps and pit buildings that had once dominated places like this. The land around had been landscaped and, as far as possible, returned to its former rural state. Only the occasional glimpse of a remaining set of headstocks, retained for heritage purposes, gave any sense of what this region had once been.

  The result was a sometimes disconcerting mix of country and city. Through the houses, it was possible to see green open fields and gentle hills, but the houses were often rows of narrow terraces of a type more commonly found in urban locations. Many of the people living in these villages commuted to work in and around Derby or Nottingham. The area wasn’t exactly poor, but Annie knew there were significant pockets of deprivation.

  The Parkins’ address was in an estate on the edge of the village. Most of the houses looked as if they dated back to the 1970s, although some parts of the estate appeared much newer. The house was at the far end of what had been the original central road in the estate, now criss-crossed with numerous side avenues. It was a pleasant-looking bungalow, set a little back from the road, with a neatly tended front garden. It looked like the residence of an older, probably retired couple. Not the kind of place she could imagine a young man like Darren Parkin living. But then they knew alm
ost nothing about Darren Parkin, which was why they were here.

  As they climbed out of the car, Zoe gestured almost imperceptibly towards the neighbouring house, another similar bungalow. ‘Literal twitching curtains.’

  Annie gave a surreptitious glance back and saw that she was right. Someone in the neighbouring house had pulled back the net curtain and was peering out at them. ‘Must be a quiet day in Loscoe.’

  ‘Judging from the pristine state of these gardens, every day’s a quiet day. Wish mine was as tidy as this.’

  The rain had stopped and a faint late-afternoon sun was struggling through the clouds. Annie led the way to the Parkins’ front door. The whole house looked well-maintained, Annie thought. The exterior had been repainted in the last year or two, and the windows were spotlessly clean. It wasn’t a luxurious or imposing house, but she guessed the owners were well enough off. She pressed the doorbell.

  The door was opened so promptly that their arrival must have been observed here too. Clearly, this wasn’t an area that received many unexpected visitors. The door was held on a chain, and a face peered out at them.

  ‘Mr Parkin?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Annie held her warrant card close to the opening. ‘DI Delamere and DS Everett. I wondered if we might have a word with you?’

  ‘Police?’ The door closed and then reopened, this time with the chain removed. ‘Is this about Darren?’

  ‘I’m afraid it is. May we come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He gestured for them to pass him into the hallway. The interior of the house was as Annie had envisaged – neat, slightly fussy, well-maintained. ‘Come through. Meg, it’s the police, I’m sorry to say.’ The last statement was addressed to an elderly, white-haired lady who was in the process of switching off the television, apparently struggling with the complexities of the remote control.

  ‘The police?’ She finally managed to deal with the television, and rose unsteadily from the armchair. ‘Is this about Darren?’

  Annie was already intrigued that the couple seemed unsurprised by their arrival. ‘I’d ask you both to sit down. I’m afraid I’ve some bad news.’

  This time, Parkin did look surprised, as if the tone of Annie’s voice hadn’t been what he’d expected. ‘About Darren?’

  ‘There’s no easy way for me to say this. I’m afraid Darren has been found dead. I’m sorry.’ There ought to be a softer way to break this kind of news, but she knew it was important to leave no room for ambiguity.

  ‘Dead?’ Whatever Parkin had been expecting her to say, it clearly wasn’t this. ‘My God. How?’

  ‘I’m not able to go into too much detail at this stage, Mr Parkin. But we think he was the victim of an unlawful killing.’

  ‘You mean he was murdered?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Your son—’

  ‘You mean grandson,’ Meg Parkin interrupted.

  Annie exchanged a glance with Zoe, knowing she should have confirmed this at the start. In retrospect, it should have been obvious the couple were likely to be too old to be the parents of a son in his early twenties, and it was standard policy to establish the relationship before informing a relative of a death. ‘I’m sorry…’

  Meg Parkin shook her head. ‘No, don’t be. Ron and I looked after Darren like a son.’

  ‘I’m very sorry. This must be distressing for you.’

  Ron Parkin looked up. ‘In a way it is. But I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.’

  ‘Ron…’ his wife interjected.

  ‘Oh, I know. Don’t speak ill of the dead. But you know it’s true.’

  ‘You didn’t seem surprised when I told you we were police officers.’ Annie decided she might as well take advantage of Ron Parkin’s unexpected honesty. She’d pull back if Meg Parkin began to seem distressed, but both grandparents appeared so far to have accepted the news calmly.

  Ron nodded. ‘I wasn’t. It wasn’t the first time we’d received a visit. Though the previous times were less shocking than this.’

  ‘We know that Darren had a criminal record. That was how we were able to confirm his identity. But they were relatively minor offences, and some years ago.’

  ‘I don’t like to say it, but he was just a bad ’un,’ Ron Parkin said. ‘He was up to his ears in stuff. We used to get visits here…’

  ‘Ron’s right,’ Meg said. ‘I don’t want to be too hard on poor Darren. We did our best for him, but he was just out of control. Mixing with the wrong people.’

  ‘You said you received visits?’ Zoe prompted.

  ‘A couple of times. People looking for him,’ Meg Parkin said. ‘Thugs. He owed them money. They were trying to track him down.’

  ‘They threatened you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say threatened. They were intimidating. But when it became obvious we didn’t know Darren’s whereabouts, they didn’t push it, I’m glad to say.’

  ‘He wasn’t living here then?’ Zoe asked.

  ‘Moved out when we was eighteen. Just didn’t want to be here. I can’t say I blamed him. To be honest, by that point we didn’t really want him here either. We were getting too old for that kind of thing. The kind of friends he had, the people he associated with. In fairness, he kept in touch, let us know he was all right. But he never came back.’

  ‘Do you know where he was living?’

  ‘Somewhere in Derby, I believe. He never gave us his address, and we never asked for it. When we got those visits, I was glad I hadn’t.’

  ‘Did you inform the police about the visits?’ Zoe asked.

  Ron Parkin nodded. ‘I did the second time it happened. They were sympathetic but couldn’t do much. Said to call them immediately if they returned. But it was just those two times. Couple of years ago now.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what Darren was doing? Work? Friends?’ Annie would normally have been reluctant to take the interview as far as this in the circumstances, but she sensed the Parkins were keen to talk. As if this was an opportunity to offload all the anxieties they’d felt about their grandson. She guessed that, for all Ron Parkin’s harsh words, they’d felt more for Darren than they might be prepared to admit.

  ‘Not really. He had no real qualifications. He was trouble at school as well. From the little he said to us, I got the impression he was mainly doing bar work. Last time he was in contact, a few months back, he was saying he’d got some big opportunity.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you what?’

  ‘No. I thought it was all just nonsense. He was always exaggerating. He reckoned he had a load of friends, but he never told us who any of them were. I don’t imagine the names would have meant anything to us anyway.’

  ‘Did he have any friends locally? From before he moved out, I mean.’ Despite the Parkins’ honesty, this was proving less informative than Annie had hoped. It was clear the grandparents knew almost nothing about Darren’s recent circumstances.

  ‘There were one or two,’ Meg Parkin said. ‘From when he was at school. Gang of tearaways. I can give you a couple of names and tell you the streets where they lived, I think. But I don’t know if any of them will still be living there.’

  ‘Anything would be helpful,’ Annie said, sincerely. ‘If we can track them down, they might have kept in touch with Darren.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Meg Parkin said, though her expression suggested doubt. She thought for a moment. ‘There was a Carl. Carl Francis, I think. They lived somewhere over in the council estate.’ After a moment, she came up with a street name. ‘I’ve pretty sure that’s where he lived. I don’t know the number, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Annie said. ‘It gives us somewhere to start. Is there anyone else?’

  ‘Who was that other one?’ Ron Parkin said. ‘Arrogant little toerag.’

  ‘Jonny,’ his wife said, after a moment. ‘Jonny Garfield. Lived with his dad, didn’t he?’ Again, she was able to come up with an approximate address. ‘I’m pretty sure his dad’s still there. I’ve seen him once
or twice in the supermarket, so he’s still living somewhere nearby, anyway.’

  ‘That’s very helpful,’ Annie said. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t really have been asking you these questions. Not now. Are you both okay? This must have been a shock for you.’

  Meg Parkin exchanged a look with her husband. ‘It’s a shock, of course it is. But we both felt we lost Darren a good while ago. We’ve both been expecting – well, not this, but some sort of bad news. It was only a matter of time.’

  ‘Would you like us to arrange for someone to be with you? A friend or relative?’

  Ron Parkin shook his head. ‘I don’t think we need anything like that. We’ll be fine.’ He paused, thinking. ‘What about the funeral? That kind of thing.’

  ‘We won’t be able to release Darren’s remains for a while,’ Annie said. ‘In the circumstances. But when we do… I assume you’re his next of kin.’

  There was a hesitation before Meg Parkin responded. ‘I suppose we must be.’ She looked to her husband to help.

  ‘The reason we ended up looking after Darren,’ Ron Parkin said, ‘was that his mother, our daughter, left him with us.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Annie said. ‘Left him?’

  ‘She was a single mother,’ Ron Parkin said. He stopped for a moment, as if unsure how much more to say. ‘It’s a long story. She wouldn’t tell us who the father was. She claimed it was someone she’d met at a party and she couldn’t track him down anyway. I don’t know if that’s true, but there wasn’t much we could do.’

  ‘But you helped her look after the child?’

  ‘She was our daughter. What else were we supposed to do? We’re not exactly rich but I’ve a decent pension – I was a pit deputy – so we could afford to help her.’

  ‘What happened to your daughter?’

  ‘I wish we knew,’ Meg Parkin said. ‘It wasn’t the easiest relationship, especially after Darren was born. But we loved her, and we thought she still loved us. We supported her as best we could, and we looked after Darren so she could get out to work. But I think she resented how much her life was constrained, and, to be honest, I think she resented having to be dependent on us. Eventually she walked out.’